He was sure that the Government would support him,
He expected no less
as a taxpayer, albeit one
who paid with other’s cash
when they weren’t paying attention.
But how surprised was our Jo
when the Westminster circus
told him that his job
was no longer viable,
he would have to retrain,
to change direction.
As he felt the three-day growth
of hair on his cheeks, and the curry
he had with the boys
from a rival firm,
to keep up pretences,
he came upon dead ends,
“Just looking for a new way of thinking,
You see my lot no longer
have my best interests at heart
and I feel I could offer you
a much more substantial return…
They sympathised as they shook their heads,
“Sorry, old boy; can’t help. We are readjusting
ourselves, streamlining, out-sourcing, the bottom-line
is precarious at best.
But I know you Jo,
You’ll bounce back, as will we all.”
They lifted their glasses in unison,
and toasted the return of their profession,
gone the way of the credit Dodo,
eaten alive by the unsatisfiable
and permanently hungry.
“Here’s to the day of constant demand”,
They cheered as one, before insisting
that Jo buy the next round.
Six months in and Jo has scrapped by,
the secret accounts have been depleted,
he has cut down on expenses,
the kids had to go
to a new school, the wife
she left him
every morning, finding solace
in her new line as a posh
escort and doubles partner
for Hesketh and Sons;
and every day Jo scoured the Government website
looking for an opportunity
but resigning himself to retrain.
Pirate, He didn’t fancy working off the coast
of Africa, after all they might remember
the diamond mine he blew up with thousands
of men inside.
School teacher, didn’t like Maths
or children!
Barman… “Yes sir, what will it be; oh gosh no,
Sorry we don’t serve cocktails here;
I know, damned disgrace.”
M.P. that appealed, except he had no criminal record.
Miner…What’s a mine?
Chef…Well he knew how to cook the books!
It was no use, He grew depressed,
no longer viable, his whole life
turned on its head
and all because of the economic downturn
which only affected the big bank regime.
He took his Grandfather’s service revolver
from the wall, checked the bullets were in place
and placed the muzzle
against his temple and was about to fire…
when he woke up sweating, screaming, his hands
shaking.
His wife, dressed in her favourite black negligee,
consoled him.
“Oh, my dear, I had the most terrible nightmare.
I dreamed the economy had tanked and I had to retrain
but I was no longer viable, I had nothing to offer.
Well that’s a lesson learned; I must make sure
I am never placed on the scrap heap,
I will make sure the others below me,
the nurses, the schoolteachers, the actors, the writers,
the social workers, the cooks, the cleaners and the retired
are all exploited to the maximum
before I ever go down!”
Ian D. Hall 2020